


Beware of What Lurks in the Shadows

by SparkyLeia



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkyLeia/pseuds/SparkyLeia
Summary: Elle Greenaway would like to forget the events surrounding her confrontation with William Lee. But she’s constantly reminded by her thoughts and by those around her who want the truth. Something has to give before the floodgates open, and she brings her entire team down with her. Elle Centered, however, the inclusion of the team. Elle and Reid Friendship. Rated T for violence.
Relationships: Elle Greenaway & Derek Morgan, Elle Greenaway/Aaron Hotchner, Elle Greenaway/Spencer Reid
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Secret Chord.

**Author's Note:**

> Story Rated T for violence. Nothing graphic just a precaution.

Every instinct as a female tells you to avoid the dark, to beware of the dark because of the men who lurk in it. Yet, Elle Greenaway was counting on the darkness as she lied in wait for a man. She stood alone in the darkness with her Glock 19 tucked away in the back of her pants. While her phone was recording, hidden in the pocket of her jacket. Her hands were jittery as she raked them through her hair. She replayed the upcoming confrontation in her head. She needed a confession. Some type of substantial evidence to make sure  _ ‘he’ _ does not get away with ruining the lives of countless women. Tangible evidence to prove she wasn't a screwup. She bit her lip when the words of Hotch floated in her head:  _ “The only reason he’s walking is because  _ **_you_ ** _ panicked.” _

_ I panicked _ . 

The sound of tires screeching on asphalt focused her thoughts on the rushing blue station wagon. It pulled into the corners of the complex’s parking lot. In an instant the slithering man steps out, his attention drawn downward. With determination in her eyes, Elle stalks from the shadows and walks up to William Lee. “Is this what you do? You wait for them until they get home,” she calls out. 

His breath hitches in fear. He searches around for the impending ambush of cops tackling him to the ground. But there was none. She was alone. He focuses back on her. “You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“What? You can’t talk to a woman without a gun in your hand?” Her face lacked genuine disbelief. Knowing the coward that stood before her. “You and I both know what you are and you’re not going to  _ hurt  _ women anymore.” 

An awkward smile encases his face, “I would never hurt them, you know that. That’s why you let me go—” 

Elle interrupts his delusion, “I didn’t let you do anything.”

He glances over her, and then that awkward smile he had, curls into a sickening one. “You’re very pretty.”

Her hands shudder at the comment. “What did you just say to me?”

But he didn’t back down. There was a concern written on his face as he looked her in her eyes. “Why do you choose to do a job that is so dangerous?” She hangs on every word, not noticing him inching closer and closer. “You should find a man to take care of you.”

“Like you  _ took _ care of those women?”

His smirk grew wider at her attempt to toy with him. “Now you’re trying to interrogate me. You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

Through gritted teeth, she retorts: “I’m just here to let you know that I’m not going to rest  _ until you go away. _ ”

He’s taken back. His smile never fading as he gawks at her, a whispered ‘no’ escaping his lips. With a shake of his head, “You’re here because you want me to say thank you.” 

“You’re sick,” she spat.

He moves in even closer. “Really? Because. . .” he pauses, enjoying the fear and confusion he was causing her. “Without you I would still be locked up.”

“I didn’t let you walk.” 

He could feel her breath against him from their closeness. With a sly reply, he whispers “Thank you.” He leans in and takes in the hints of her perfume. Before he could do more she drew away. “You’ve made a lot of women very happy.” 

With a few words, she stood paralyzed. Dreading on the pain she has now caused. The new victims she made for letting him go. Before she could process it he was pulling the gun from out of its hiding spot, tucked in her pants, and positioning it at the back of her head. She swore abusively to herself at the delayed reaction. 

“I need you to walk,” despite his bold action his voice was unsteady.

But she remains halted in place. If she goes with him she knew she’d be worse off. He was either going to kill her or. . .she shudder at the thought of his slimy hands on her. He never killed before. It was a gamble rather not he’d shoot her right then and there. The idea of her team finding her body thrown away like trash made her subconsciously lean ahead. She could picture the grief on Morgan’s face. He already lost his father to some criminal. For him to lose his partner would be unimaginable. She did not want to do that to him. And the blank stare of Spencer Reid. He may not express much of his feelings, but over the past year, they’ve grown closer. For whatever reason, he saw her as a friend. An older sister he can rely on. Then the stoic expression from Hotch. She wasn’t for sure if he’d be sad or disappointed in her. But if she goes—

“Walk!” he interrupts with an attempt of aggressiveness but his voice flattens.

Returning from her thoughts, she replies. “No.”

“If you don’t—”

“What, you’ll kill me? You’re not going to do that, Lee,” her words masked her uneasiness. Butterflies swarm in her stomach as she continues: “You  _ don’t _ want to do that.”

“What I want is for us to have some privacy. That’s what you want isn’t it? That’s why you came alone. Away from the prying eyes of your team,” he trails off as his hand graces her lower back. 

“I don’t want  _ anything  _ from you.”

“Then why did you come alone?” 

There it was. The million-dollar question that geared no clever retort. No snarky comment that can mask her fear. He was right. Her coming alone was one of the dumbest decisions she ever made. Going to a known rapist’s home, by herself, without backup. If she was a cop looking in she’d say that she was stupid too. He takes her silence as consent and then pushes her onward. 

With every step, she drags her feet against the stone road. Hoping it would buy her some time, or at least deter him. He sighed in irritation of her resistance. “Move.” 

She ignores him, waiting for him to strike. He reaches out to shove her. As his hands were up in motion, she shot a hard jab to his gut sending a cry out his mouth. He hunches over in pain, but he doesn’t let go of the gun. Turning around to face him she grabs hold of his hair. Her nails dig into his scalp as she lifts his head, then swiftly collides it with her knee. The cracking sound of breaking bone echoes in the quiet. 

The gun falls to the ground with a clatter, and in mere seconds she joins it, scrambling to reach it before him.  _ Come on come on.  _ He curses, blinking away the pain. In frustration, he drags her up by her waist. 

“Get off!” she connects her boot-clad foot with his groin, causing him to release her while he stumbles backward. 

Once his tight grip falls, she drops like sluggish wet laundry, and her forehead smacks against the concrete. The gun lays feet from her grasp but all she could see were black spots dancing around. Extending her hand as far as it would go, her fingertips grace the magazine.  _ “Come on!” _ she exclaims. With her fingers, she guides the weapon closer until the weight of it fully rests in her palm. With one click of the trigger came a thundering sound of a bullet firing from its barrel. It punctures a hole in a nearby trash container sending greasy trash to seep from the opening. 

Before she could rejoice in her stunt, her forehead slams into the earth below her. But she didn’t let go of her defense. So he slams it harder, and harder, and harder; to the verge of unconsciousness. She involuntarily loosens her hold on the gun. With her dazed, he yanks her up by the ends of her hair. She yelps in pain, and in an instant, he covers her mouth with his clammy hands. 

“Shhh, be a good girl, and don’t make a sound,” he tucks the gun in his pants and drags her behind his car. 

Just as quickly, a nosey neighbor turned his porch light on.

“Freak’n kids and their firecrackers!?” the older man came limping down his steps in a house robe and brown loafers. 

This was it. This was her opportunity for freedom. Yards away was a beer belly man coming to save her. Elle screams as loud as she can, but it is released as a muffled whimper. She wasn’t going to let this slip away. She struggles under Lee’s grip. Her window quickly begins to close as the neighbor impatiently examines around for signs of where the pop came from. She tries to kick something, anything to get the older man to rescue her. Unintentionally, her kick landed against the door of the car. The neighbor looks in the direction of the noise.  _ Please, help. _ She begs to herself as Lee's hand tightens to the point it becomes hard to breathe. The neighbor drew so close she could almost see the details in his face.

* * *


	2. Kitchen Chair

With a thud, a scruffy alley cat came scurrying from the trash container nearby. It hisses at the overweight man then took off in the opposite direction. The neighbor exhaled in annoyance, assuming the culprit for the ruckus came from the stray. "Stupid cat," he says then turns back to his small apartment.

_No, no, no. Don't leave._ Her window quickly begins to close. As she was lifting her foot to kick the car, Lee whispers: "If you make a sound, I will kill him. His death would be on your hands. Just like those women. It would be your fault."

_Why did they have to train me to save civilians?_ She blinks away frustrated tears as her rescue closes the door.

"See, I knew you wanted this."

He walks them back to his house, clutching her to his chest with one hand, and using the other to rifle through his pocket for his keys. The object jingles as he uses it to unlock the door. Pushing the frame aside, he reaches out and turns off the alarm. Still, with a hold on her, he shuffles through the drawer of the entry table in search of a nylon cord. As his hands were clenching around the white synthetic, she was preparing for another escape. In her mind, she was thinking, maybe she could overpower him. If she does, no one has to die. No one gets hurt.

She threw her head back into the same sore nose.

"Ungrateful little—," spit flies with every gritted word as he scrambles to stop the blood from dripping onto the carpet.

The action intensifies her concussion. The spots in her vision grew bigger. Her body sways in and out of consciousness as she stumbles to her feet. She tries to force her legs to take off towards the back door. However, her balance is screwed and corrupted. She grasps the adjacent wall for support. Saliva was building up in her mouth and it felt as if she was gonna belly over and expel the takeout Morgan ordered earlier. Her body tenses when she felt his hand on her back, "You can't leave," he whispers, grabbing the hem of her jacket.

She viciously struggles out the sleeves, dropping to her hands and knees. She turns to a sitting position and quickly crab-crawls backward until her back hits a wall.

"I promise I won't hurt you."

He tosses her jacket aside, then crouches to where she was sitting. He reaches out to touch her face but she snatches away, glaring.

"Don't touch me." She kicks out at him but misses.

He bites his lower lip, sizing up her figure. "You are beautiful," he says while brushing the messy strands from her face.

"Shut up." She looks around for an exit, but every vantage point Lee was blocking.

In her peripheral vision, she could see him beginning to unbutton his striped shirt. She needed to get out. However, the more weight she put on her arms, the weaker they got. In a swift motion, he was pulling off his jacket and shirt. His exposed chest stares her in the face. _"Get up,"_ she begs herself. She groans as her arms wobble under the pressure. Barely levitating, she began to scoot to the side of her. He shakes his head at her feeble attempt. He reaches out to grab her leg, wanting to pull her under him, but she reacts with as much force as her body could muster into a harsh kick to his stomach. Sharp breathing notified her of the impact. _Get up!_ With ease, he recovers. Before she could form a standing position he grabs her legs and drags her down the hallway. Rug burns the flesh of her stomach. Carpet embeds into the bed of her nails as she claws to prevent the inevitable. She frantically shakes her head. _No, no, no, no, no, no, no._

"Lee, you don't have to do this. Please, don't. Just— Let go!" demand only evident in her words.

Every maneuver, every squirm, every yell, meant nothing. It didn't stop the inescapable. Once she realizes this, her eyes instantly shut. She didn't focus on the sound of a belt unhinging from its loops. Or the eerie creaks the bed made at the shifting weight; not remembering how she got on top of it in the first place. _You're somewhere else, you're somewhere else._ She repeats the mantra over and over in her head. She forces her thoughts on anything else. Her dad. The team. Morgan. She shakes her head at the idea, settling on her father. The idea of the middle-aged cop floats in her mind, presenting himself with a warmth she wanted so badly. She wanted him to be here. For him to stop Lee. _Focus on my voice, Peanut. Nothing else._ Her mind centers around her father's voice. Gently her father calms her, though tears continue to stream.

She opens her eyes to Lee getting dressed.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" his genuine concern made the bile in the pit of her stomach slowly rise. "Are you hungry?" she stares through him. "I'm going to get us something to eat, okay?"

She doesn't respond, so he leaves with a sigh. He takes the gun from the nightstand and closes the door on his way out. Once she hears his steps descend into the kitchen she brings herself to a sitting position. She chews on her lower lip at the sight of the perfected knots. It would take hours to get through the rope, and yanking on it would simply tighten them around her wrists. Every scenario was pacing through her head. Of him keeping her, taunting her with the freedom of death only to hurt her all over again. Or he would kill her and dispose of her body in a river, never to be found again. Or maybe it will be better if she kills herself. Though none of those options worked in her favor. But at least with the latter, she will die with some form of control.

Her teeth begin to chatter at the unwelcoming cold of being pantless. Her eyes widen at the sound of creaking floorboards. Lee came in. Her stomach mumbled but the only thing in his hand was her Glock 19. After tucking it in the back of his pants, he walks over to her and starts undoing the knots. He was silent. When she stares at him he averts her gaze.

He was here to kill her.

His hands tremble at the thought as if he was afraid to commit such an act. He helps her off the bed. He picks her pants and boots from the floor, then hands them to her.

"Put-put it on," he stutters.

She obeys for the sake of not wanting to be exposed any longer. Once she zips the zipper of her boots, he was wrapping the nylon around her wrist. In and out the rope went. On the third loop; a crash came from outside his bedroom window, stunning them in place. They both look up with the same idea. Someone or something was out there. In a rush, he drags her out until they reach the barricade. The front door separated them from freedom. Either he was going to be taken away or hers is going to be given back. Her tongue graces her lips in anticipation. Either way, once she leaves this house, it'll finally be over. He holds the gun to her back as he opens the door.

They were met with the frigid temperature of midnight. But the previous clattering of noise had stopped. The one sound being emitted came from Lee's shallow breathing. Elle looks around for someone, anyone. But the parking lot was desolate. She was alone. She was going to die alone, and no one was coming to save her. Her eyes well up at the fact. She scowled at the weak thought of self-pity. _I am not going to die by this idiot only to be found in some ditch_. . .

He digs the gun into her spine. "Move!"

As her foot was raising a loud clunk came from the right of them. The same cat from earlier hunched its back at the uninvited visitors.

"Screw off—" was the only words Lee could get out before an elbow went to his gut.

The rope loosens after the blow which only persuades Elle even more. Her eyes narrow at the pathetic creature bent over, gasping for air. She then picks up the gun he mistakenly dropped. Without hesitation, Elle aims it at the center of his head. He sheepishly looks up at the slight click of the safety turning off. Slowly he stands up. He extends his hands out in protection as he backs away from her, towards the center of the parking lot.

"Please, don't do this," he begs, stuttering at every word.

She replies with a stoic emotion. "Funny," she scoffs, "I asked the same thing."

Her aim went to his chest. With a violent roar, the man's cries cease, and she is left alone.


End file.
